


Slow Dance

by james



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Humor, Light Angst, Post-Avengers (2012), Slice of Life, elements of 616 canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: Tony and Natasha slowly become friends.
Relationships: Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 48
Collections: Mistletoe Exchange 2020





	Slow Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flipflop_diva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/gifts).



JARVIS had warned him, of course, long before Romanov walked into his workshop. Tony didn't bother looking away from the screen where he was working on the knee joints of his next, updated suit. Flexibility versus stability versus not letting liquid or – seriously what the fuck were villains doing nowadays – mind-controlled pillbugs inside.

He waited, letting her stop just inside the doorway and willing to ignore her as long as he had to. Possibly longer, even if he was supposed to be playing nice with the other Avengers. _We have to be a team, Tony,_ Steve had said, and Bruce had said, and Thor had asked in that way that made it sound like he was merely asking for clarification on strange Midgardian customs, but really he was calling you on your shit.

He was _trying_ to play nice, in the sense he was trying to make it look like he was making the effort when really he mostly wasn't.

It didn't take long before he heard, “Can I borrow a car?”

It certainly wasn't what he was expecting, and her tone made him actually look back over his shoulder. Not hesitant or apologetic, but a neutral, slightly uncertain tone that said she wanted him to think she wasn't here to annoy him, but genuinely needed a favor.

Given how good she was at manipulating people, Tony could appreciate that she was trying to be nice.

On the other hand, it wasn't like he gave a shit. He shrugged. “Sure.” He waved his hand in the direction of the garage, several floors below. “Take whatever. The keys are in them; JARVIS will let you in.” He paused, then, “The Aperta's probably what you're looking for.”

S.H.I.E.L.D. was still sending her and Barton on missions, and he knew that Romanov was headed to an extremely fancy shindig in the Hamptons and had arranged for her to have all the props she needed, including an expensive car. He wasn't supposed to know about any of it, of course, but S.H.I.E.L.D needed to upgrade their firewalls if they wanted him to not know shit.

They'd given her an _Acura_ which made Tony's skin twitch.

He didn't put it past Fury to have done it on purpose, just to make Romanov come to ask him, thus forcing them to have an Avengers Bonding Moment. Regardless, he had plans for Fury that didn't require the man to do anything more to earn Tony's revenge.

“It might be a few days before I get it back. I can't guarantee it won't get shot at,” Romanov said, an odd sort of hesitation in her voice. Tony wondered if she was testing him? Seeing if he was really going to say yes? 

Like he'd let her be seen in an Acura, even in disguise. Like _he'd_ never been shot at in any of his cars. Well, probably she got shot at more often than he did, but if you counted crashes from drunken or otherwise driving, he was definitely ahead of her at that game.

“JARVIS, do the papers, would you? Whatever name you want, Natalie Rushman, Natalie Lies-a-Lot, whatever. Just let him know.” He grinned sunnily at her then turned back to his work, knowing she probably wasn't going to just walk off.

“Papers.” A glance back showed him she'd narrowed her eyes, and somehow, for a moment, he thought her expression was real.

“For insurance, whatever. Unless you want the bad guys to find out that whoever you are is driving Tony Stark's car, in which case don't change the papers.” 

There was silence, then he heard her leave. He returned his full attention to his work, and to pondering whether U needed new wheels or if better maneuverability would be a disaster for all of them.

~ ~ ~

Three days later he was upstairs, drinking his fourth cup of coffee and staring out of the windows. He could see the shadows of missing edges, of the buildings destroyed in the Chitauri attack. There were the construction crews all over, rebuilding, and some areas still blocked off, waiting their turn. 

A lot of the damage had been repaired, and where it hadn't, businesses and residents had been relocated until it was safe to return. Tony tried to tell himself that paying for it all helped, that it made him less responsible for all the other things he'd done.

He didn't believe it, but he'd promised to try the positive reinforcement techniques Pepper had suggested. Say it until you believe it, she'd said, looking at him with those sad eyes that made Tony wish he could be what she thought he was capable of being.

Rebuilding wasn't the same as protecting, or preventing the destruction in the first place. They needed more satellites, he knew, and maybe a few manned space stations keeping an eye out.

He heard the doors of the elevator opening and, a moment later, Romanov said casually, “So. Your car's in Gardiner's Bay.”

Tony didn't look over. JARVIS had told him, shown him the footage from the police helicopter. Over and over, because after he'd seen her escape safely before the car hit the water, it had truly been a glorious crash. “Your car,” he reminded her.

He heard he walk closer, and he half-turned towards her. She was frowning, faintly. “That was for...insurance. Part of my cover.”

“Nope,” he said. “Gave it to you, now _your_ car is in the bay. Maybe you know someone who can fish it out for you.”

She took a breath, then shook her head. “Tony--” She was about to say it. You can't give me this. It's too much. He'd heard it all before. Fact was, someone like her needed a fast car, needed to be driving a sports car with every ounce of power and glee she could muster.

He waved a hand. “If S.H.I.E.L.D. can't drag it out, I can fly over and grab it. Cost you a box of macarons.”

Romanov folded her arms and regarded him, with a very non-nonsense, I will kick your ass if you don't stop being stupid, expression. He'd seen her give it to Barton often enough; Barton always laughed at her. Tony didn't think he could get away with that.

On the other hand, it was a real expression again, he thought, not one meant to manipulate him. Probably a little, because he doubted she could help herself.

“I know JARVIS forged the paperwork to show I owned the car,” she began.

“Not forged. Don't worry about it,” Tony stepped around her, more than willing to go rescue the car. It would give him a chance to test the upgrades he'd been tinkering with, and any time he could get out and fly without bad guys shooting at him, was a good time.

He got halfway across the room when she said, “You gave me-- JARVIS, did he really give me his car?”

“Yes, Agent Romanov,” he heard JARVIS say, quietly. “The car is legally yours, or rather, Karen Buchanen's. I can revise the paperwork with whatever name you wish, now that your mission has concluded. I also have a list of garages Sir has recommended if you wish to peruse them.”

Tony stepped into the elevator before he heard her reply, and headed down to the workshop to get suited up.

“JARVIS, be sure to bill S.H.I.E.L.D for the retrieval,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” JARVIS replied, sighing just a little, as though he knew that Tony knew perfectly well what the response would be.

Tony smiled. Maybe it would give Fury a headache. Or Agent Agent would come around to yell at him again, which would, at least, make Barton happy.

~ ~ ~

Tony opened his eyes, slowly, and only partway. The pounding in his head was entirely too familiar, though as he woke he had a niggling feeling that he'd tried to stop doing this. He tried to remember the party, the reason for drinking so much, and – ah. He remembered, now, slamming into the side of a mountain, falling, and there had probably been half a mountain of boulders landing on him. 

Maybe an elephant or two as well. 

He couldn't help but groan as he opened his eyes fully, flinching backwards as he saw Barton, perched on the end of the couch Tony was lying on. The archer was motionless, facing him like he'd fallen asleep with his eyes open.

“You're not supposed to move,” Barton said, without moving himself.

Tony blinked, and took inventory. Ribs, aching, didn't feel broken. Head, pounding, but he didn't feel dizzy or nauseous. Maybe not concussed. Leg – aha. Definitely in a cast. He glanced down and saw, with no little relief, that the cast started below the knee and went halfway down his foot. He wiggled his toes. So he'd be able to walk around as soon as he could stand up.

“Nat said she would kill us both if I let you off the couch,” Barton said. “And Pepper didn't say anything but she was glaring at me like it was already my fault, which means if I have to tackle you to the floor I will, if you try to get up.”

Tony took a long moment to try to parse all of that, and ran it by again to see if it made any sense. Pepper, sure, but why the hell would Romanov threaten him? She'd brought him more macarons when he'd brought her car back, then brought pizelles once he'd finished repairing it. 

He'd tried to tell her she couldn't give the car back, you break it you own it. He nagged her about which garage she wanted to keep it in, and she'd ended up leaving it in his garage, right in its previous parking spot. Tony painted the floor with her name and made a Black Widow Parking Spot/All Others Will Be Strangled parking sign for the wall.

Barton had asked for a Ferrari, but Tony was working on something better – a flying motorcycle, one for Barton and one for Steve. 

He tried to sit up and Barton glared at him. “Move and die, Stark,” he said.

“Uh... I think if you actually kill me, Pepper is going to be unhappy. It's hard to forge the signature of someone who is legally dead.” He stopped trying to sit up, anyhow, because moving made everything hurt. 

Maybe he'd lay quietly for another few minutes. Just until Pepper got back and he could finagle his way back to the workshop.

He closed his eyes and absolutely did not fall back asleep, he'd just been dozing, when he woke with a start. Barton was gone, the room was slightly darker, and now Romanov was sitting in a chair at the end of the couch.

“Where the fuck are we?” Because this wasn't Stark Tower, he realised, and wondered at just how badly his head had been hurting that he hadn't registered that the first time.

“Safe house,” Romanov said, in a calm, soothing tone that made him want to remind them he wasn't fragile, he was fine, he was ready to go home.

Well then, he wasn't in a hospital, so maybe he could be a little bit grateful. He hated waking up in hospitals.

“We got you to a hospital in San Fransisco; Pepper met us and we moved here as soon as she convinced the doctors to release you.”

“She did that?” Wow. He owed her, like, a million pairs of shoes. Or chocolate. Shoes made out of chocolate.

“The others are still tracking down G.A.T.P., so we didn't think it would be safe to leave you there. Barton is with Pepper now, just in case they were keeping an eye on us and saw her.”

Tony groaned. “I still can't believe they're calling themselves that. Don't villains have any self-respect?” 

Romanov smiled, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Don't you think 'Get All The Power' is catchy? I think it's catchy.”

“It's embarrassing, and makes me want to change sides so I can hand out names. At least the Masters of Evil is a good name. _Masters of Evil,_ ” he said in a low, evil tone. “Makes you want to actually go fight them. Get All The Power sounds like 12 year olds playing dress-up.”

Romanov rolled her eyes, but smiled. 

“Do you think if we decided to go evil, we could give ourselves a really good name? Ex-Avengers? Doesn't sound right, sounds like we got divorced. Evil Avengers? No. Revengers? Maybe.” Tony had no idea why he was babbling; his head still hurt and he honestly wanted to go back to sleep. But he was alone with Romanov, and Barton was guarding Pepper, and the others were still out there.

“You should go catch up with them,” Tony said. “I don't need a babysitter. JARVIS can run the suit, we can call Rhodey in – or if you guys need War Machine he can back you up.”

But Romanov was giving him a flat look. “We promised you would stay off your feet and rest. If I walk out of this room, you are not going to do that.”

“I might.”

“You and I both know if I leave, you will be back in your suit – which is broken, by the way – and off doing something which will make your doctors and Pepper yell at all of us. Do you want to be responsible for Pepper being mad at me?” Romanov looked at him, widening her eyes a little, pouting ever so slightly, and looking at him with the best sweet, innocent, begging face he had ever seen.

“Wow. I feel like giving you my wallet, all of my cars, and a pony. Do you want a pony? Actually, I think I own a dozen horses. Do you want one?”

“You can't bribe me with a horse to let you off this couch.”

“How about a castle? Island? Oh, wait, I bet you'd like a jet plane. I could make you your own personal QuinJet.”

He could tell she was amused, but also that she wasn't convinced. He tried looking cute right back at her, and she clearly wasn't having it. Well, she was used to Barton who probably cuted his way out of a lot of things. Bribery wasn't working, so. Hmm.

She picked up a thermos that had been sitting on the floor and unscrewed the lid. He could smell soup, and sighed. She poured some into the lid, handed it over, and, pulling himself upright with a lot of wincing, he took it.

“If I eat my soup, can I have my phone at least?” He needed to see how wrecked his suit was. Maybe he'd step up fabrication on the next one instead. If he was this broken, chances were good his suit was in a few pieces at least.

“Hulk pulled the torso apart to get you out,” she said, calmly.

Tony sighed. At least he could use the pieces for scrap, for the next version.

He drank his soup, and let Romanov give him updates on how the rest of the team was doing as she listened in on her comm. They'd found and engaged the wanna-be villains, who, honestly, had _had_ a really nice big gun, but they'd used it to throw Ironman into a mountain then discovered a little thing called reloading. Romanov explained how they'd gotten away from that fight, and relayed him the comments from the team when they found out Tony was, so far, behaving himself.

Tony flipped her off and asked her to pass it along; she nodded and did so. He finished his soup and thought seriously about trying to get to his feet, wondering how far he'd make it towards the door before Romanov caught him and flipped him over a bookcase.

She glared at him suddenly and he realised probably not that far. With a sigh he leaned his head back, and then somehow he was back to sleep.

When he woke up he accused her of drugging his soup; she just looked innocent then said she'd spiked it with his painkillers. Then she started reading out loud to him from some novel she'd been in the middle of, something in Korean which he'd been working on learning, off and on, and it distracted him enough that he didn't even notice when he fell asleep a third time.

The next time he woke up, Barton was there, holding a plate of sandwiches.

“She is really good at that,” Tony said, and Barton nodded.

“She's had me to practise on. Sorry.” He didn't sound sorry, but he was holding the plate out, which Tony took.

“I'm either going to kill her, or give her another car.”

“Good luck with either of those,” Barton said, and continued eating his own sandwich.

Tony wondered if Romanov wanted a flying motorcycle too, or if she was too sensible.

Probably too sensible.

Maybe he'd make her rocket-powered boots. She could flip over buildings that way. She could get assigned to catch Barton for awhile.

~ ~ ~

“Sir, Ms. Romanov--” JARVIS' warning was cut off by Natasha storming into the workshop. He'd warned Tony several moments earlier that she was on her way; apparently her mood had changed suddenly right before coming in.

He spun around in his seat and opened his mouth to ask, but she walked right up to him.

“You gave him a flying motorcycle!” 

Wow, she was definitely pissed. Tony hadn't thought she'd really care, but that was fine. “Did you want one? I didn't think you would, but I can--”

“He's going to break his neck!” she interrupted.

Okay, that made sense why she was upset, but honestly. “Barton'll be fine. He can fall off anything,” Tony said. Mostly they tried to prevent the landing part, but they didn't seem to be able to stop him from _falling_ off things. Tall things.

“Not Clint,” Natasha scoffed. “He'll be fine. I mean Steve! You gave Steve a flying motorcycle.” She slapped her hand against Tony's shoulder which didn't hurt at all, which meant she couldn't possibly really be mad at him.

“Um. Okay?”

“Are you _crazy?_ ”

Tony felt like he'd missed half of the conversation. He narrowed his eyes and studied her face for a long moment. She looked angry, almost furious, but she wasn't actually throwing him across the room, hitting him hard, or threatening to switch his coffee with decaf.

“Since when is it crazy to give Captain America a flying motorcycle? If he breaks his neck, it'll just heal. And also, he's been having the time of his life 'testing' it.” They'd barely been able to get him off the thing for five days, in fact, and Tony was starting to wonder if he needed to send Clint up on his to catch up with him and hand over some sandwiches or something.

He had to land to pee, at least. He thought. Maybe – no, he didn't want to think about it.

So no, he had no idea why Natasha was upset. So he waited, patiently for her to tell him.

“You gave Phil a flying car,” she said, suddenly calmer.

“And.. what do you want, Ms. Romanov? I can build you a jetpack, or I was actually working on some boots, but so far they're too heavy and bulky, not good for being undercover as anything but a lumberjack.”

She smiled, and sat down on the edge of his desk. “I want Bond's car. The one that goes underwater.”

“Ooh, good choice! Submarine car. I think I started one like that.. JARVIS pull up that file, Car007. I stopped working on it...oh, well, I had an event in Afghanistan, disrupted all my projects.” He tsked, gave her a rueful half-smile.

He couldn't say they'd ever talked about it, but there had been times when they'd sat together, not talking in anything but clipped, seemingly random phrases, about owing things you could never repay.

She returned his smile softly, then turned towards the plans that were now on Tony's holographic screen. “I'm assuming you don't want a purple interior,” Tony said, wiping that away before she could see the words _leather_ and _fur_.

“No disco ball, either,” she said, and he grinned, removing that little detail as well. 

“Could install a stripper pole, plenty of room for a quick spin in the backseat. No? You're missing out, I have to tell you.”

She ignored him and pointed towards the front windshield. “Can it be larger? Or is that part of the structural design?”

“At the time I was trying to prevent the windshield from shattering under the pressure, but hey! Technology has come a long way in the last few years. Let's see what we can do.”

They bent their heads together and started building Natasha's car.

Once he built it, he hung a tiny disco ball from the rearview mirror. It somehow made its way to Dum-E, who refused to give it up.


End file.
